Through the dark and
lurid atmosphere of war the light of "Nature's own exceeding peace"
still softly falls on the earth. The violets have opened their blue eyes by the
roadside; the saxifrage fringes the ledges with white; and the arbutus, the
Pilgrim's mayflower, blossoms on the hills away from here; we have no hillsides
for it to grow upon, but I had some on May-day, from the hills of Taunton. How
strange the contrast between these delicate blossoms and the flaring red flower
of war that has burst into bloom with the opening of spring!
Every day brings
something to stir the deep places of the soul, and in the general awakening of
life and liberty it may be that every heart feels its own peculiar sorrow and
happiness more keenly. There is a deeper life in every breath I draw; and
messages from distant friends seem more near and touching. One day, from one of
the most beloved and honored, comes a kind word for my poor efforts at poetry;
almost a prophecy of some blessed days of summer life among the mountains by
and by, — and a holy benediction, "God bless thee, and keep thee!"
that fell upon my heart like the first ray of some new and unknown
morning. All life seemed green and glowing with a freshened trust.—God is, and
goodness is; and true hearts are, forever! There is nothing to doubt, even in
these dark days!
Then, the next day,
a message from dear Esther (she could not write it herself) to say that she is
dying, and wants to hear from me again. And to think that she had been drooping
all these spring days, while I have been too full of occupation with the stir
of the times to write! But she says my words have always been good for her, and
surely few have blessed me by life and thought as she has. Heaven will have one
bond for my heart, closer than any yet. I am glad that she can lie down in
peace, before the horrible scenes of bloodshed, which only a miracle can now
avert, shall be enacted.
SOURCE: Daniel
Dulany Addison, “Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary,” pp. 90-1
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